Pygmalion, George Bernard Shaw [e book reader free TXT] 📗

for sixpence. The church clock strikes the second quarter. Higgins Hearing in it the voice of God, rebuking him for his Pharisaic want of charity to the poor girl. A reminder. He raises his hat solemnly; then throws a handful of money into the basket and follows Pickering. The Flower Girl Picking up a half-crown. Ah⁠—ow⁠—ooh! Picking up a couple of florins. Aaah⁠—ow⁠—ooh! Picking up several coins. Aaaaaah⁠—ow⁠—ooh! Picking up a half-sovereign. Aasaaaaaaaaah⁠—ow⁠—ooh!!! Freddy Springing out of a taxicab. Got one at last. Hallo! To The Flower Girl. Where are the two ladies that were here? The Flower Girl They walked to the bus when the rain stopped. Freddy And left me with a cab on my hands. Damnation! The Flower Girl With grandeur. Never you mind, young man. I’m going home in a taxi. She sails off to the cab. The driver puts his hand behind him and holds the door firmly shut against her. Quite understanding his mistrust, she shows him her handful of money. Eightpence ain’t no object to me, Charlie. He grins and opens the door. Angel Court, Drury Lane, round the corner of Micklejohn’s oil shop. Let’s see how fast you can make her hop it. She gets in and pulls the door to with a slam as the taxicab starts. Freddy Well, I’m dashed! Act II

Next day at 11 a.m. Higgins’s laboratory in Wimpole Street. It is a room on the first floor, looking on the street, and was meant for the drawing-room. The double doors are in the middle of the back hall; and persons entering find in the corner to their right two tall file cabinets at right angles to one another against the walls. In this corner stands a flat writing-table, on which are a phonograph, a laryngoscope, a row of tiny organ pipes with a bellows, a set of lamp chimneys for singing flames with burners attached to a gas plug in the wall by an india rubber tube, several tuning-forks of different sizes, a life-size image of half a human head, showing in section the vocal organs, and a box containing a supply of wax cylinders for the phonograph.

Further down the room, on the same side, is a fireplace, with a comfortable leather-covered easy-chair at the side of the hearth nearest the door, and a coal-scuttle. There is a clock on the mantelpiece. Between the fireplace and the phonograph table is a stand for newspapers.

On the other side of the central door, to the left of the visitor, is a cabinet of shallow drawers. On it is a telephone and the telephone directory. The corner beyond, and most of the side wall, is occupied by a grand piano, with the keyboard at the end furthest from the door, and a bench for the player extending the full length of the keyboard. On the piano is a dessert dish heaped with fruit and sweets, mostly chocolates.

The middle of the room is clear. Besides the easy chair, the piano bench, and two chairs at the phonograph table, there is one stray chair. It stands near the fireplace. On the walls, engravings; mostly Piranesis and mezzotint portraits. No paintings.

Pickering is seated at the table, putting down some cards and a tuning-fork which he has been using. Higgins is standing up near him, closing two or three file drawers which are hanging out. He appears in the morning light as a robust, vital, appetizing sort of man of forty or thereabouts, dressed in a professional-looking black frock-coat with a white linen collar and black silk tie. He is of the energetic, scientific type, heartily, even violently interested in everything that can be studied as a scientific subject, and careless about himself and other people, including their feelings. He is, in fact, but for his years and size, rather like a very impetuous baby “taking notice” eagerly and loudly, and requiring almost as much watching to keep him out of unintended mischief. His manner varies from genial bullying when he is in a good humor to stormy petulance when anything goes wrong; but he is so entirely frank and void of malice that he remains likeable even in his least reasonable moments. Higgins As he shuts the last drawer. Well, I think that’s the whole show. Pickering It’s really amazing. I haven’t taken half of it in, you know. Higgins Would you like to go over any of it again? Pickering Rising and coming to the fireplace, where he plants himself with his back to the fire. No, thank you; not now. I’m quite done up for this morning. Higgins Following him, and standing beside him on his left. Tired of listening to sounds? Pickering Yes. It’s a fearful strain. I rather fancied myself because I can pronounce twenty-four distinct vowel sounds; but your hundred and thirty beat me. I can’t hear a bit of difference between most of them. Higgins Chuckling, and going over to the piano to eat sweets. Oh, that comes with practice. You hear no difference at first; but you keep on listening, and presently you find they’re all as different as A from B. Mrs. Pearce looks in: she is Higgins’s housekeeper. What’s the matter? Mrs. Pearce Hesitating, evidently perplexed. A young woman wants to see you, sir. Higgins A young woman! What does she want? Mrs. Pearce Well, sir, she says you’ll be glad to see her when you know what she’s come about. She’s quite a common girl, sir. Very common indeed. I should have sent her away, only I thought perhaps you wanted her to talk into your machines. I hope I’ve not done wrong; but really you see such queer people sometimes⁠—you’ll excuse me, I’m sure, sir⁠— Higgins Oh, that’s all right, Mrs. Pearce. Has she an interesting accent? Mrs. Pearce Oh, something dreadful, sir, really. I don’t know how you can take an interest in it. Higgins To Pickering. Let’s have her up. Show her up, Mrs. Pearce.